


See My Scars (hold my heart)

by SageMasterofSass



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Discussion of past Torture, Discussion of past self harm, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, It's really not that bad, M/M, References to Past Drug Use, Scars of both the emotional and physical variety, but really more fluff than anything else, discussion of suicide, honestly these tags sound so heavy???, its got good vibes and a happy ending promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMasterofSass/pseuds/SageMasterofSass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren has a secret he's been hiding since before he died. Simon trades it for a secret of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See My Scars (hold my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic for In the Flesh, and I'm super excited about it. I finished the show like...two days ago or so?? I love it so much uggh its fantastic. I've already got lots of other little drabble ideas that I want to write out, but I'm not sure when I'll get to them. Just keep an eye out for more stuff if you like my writing, because I promise I'll be getting to more Siren!

Kieren bites his lip and stares down at his arms in faint distress.

Warming up has been an...interesting process to say the least. Kind of weird, kind of awesome, mostly just very gross. Amy isn't a lot of help with her unintelligible description of symptoms and unflappable enthusiasm, and Simon is a few steps behind Kieren, so he really isn’t much help either.

Mostly, it feels kind of like how Kieren remembers drinking too much water felt. Like you’re too full and kind of sloshy in your middle, a cool sensation up the back of your throat as if you’re going to puke it all up any second. So, yeah, gross.

There are some pretty cool perks to warming up, like the regaining of sensation, and the fresh, exciting ability to eat (Kieren isn’t quite there yet, but soon. he's already started stocking up on his favorite foods) but there are a lot of downsides too, like the nosebleeds (can you really call it blood though when the stuff is black?) and the moments of confusion.  

So far though, Kieren thinks this might be the worst side effect. Honestly he should have seen it coming, should have known it would happen. He'd still been able to feel them after all, the countless scars up and down his forearms, the tissue raised and bumpy from elbow to wrist. But they hadn't been visible, not with his skin so damn pale, so it was like the cuts that had killed him, the big, long ones, were the first. The only.

They aren’t.  

Life hadn't been kind to Kieren Walker growing up. He'd been too soft, too kind, too introspective to really fit in with the other boys, and he'd been labeled a fag pretty early on. When he'd finally gone through his sexuality crisis it had been pretty bad, because admitting it to himself felt like admitting that everything his peers had ever said about him was also true. And they had said a lot of things, too much for a fourteen year old to try and shoulder.

Of course, there'd been Jem and Rick, his sole friends and companions. But Rick...well, Rick had fit in where Kieren hadn't, and though they'd been really close, there were plenty of times Rick just wasn't around, or couldn't be. And with Rick’s father always trying to keep them apart, it had just made spending time with the other boy that much more difficult. They’d snuck out of course, spent time together in the cave in the woods, drank, smoked a bit. But there are only so many hours in the night a teenager could be gone, and once those were up Kier was virtually alone all over again.

And Jem. Well, nobody let him live it down the few times he’d let his baby sister stand up for him, so Kieren had put a stop to that pretty quickly. They’d still been close, before the whole…Rising thing ever happened, but she’d been younger than him by a few years, putting them at odds on occasion, and she had had friends of her own, couldn’t keep her older brother company all the time.

When he was with Jem or Rick, or even his parents, Kieren hadn’t really felt all that bad. He’d been mostly happy. But the moment he was alone? Well, that was when it tended to all fall apart. That was when that ugly little voice in the back of his head would start up, when his chest would feel empty and bloody, ripped open, nothing left inside the cavity. It had hurt, tremendously so, and the voice had made him feel so alone, so _worthless_.

So it’d been a habit, the cutting, just a little something to take the edge off his emotions when painting and drawing didn't quite get it all out, or weren't fast enough options. He’d curl himself over his chosen arm for the day, or his hip, his thigh, razor clenched tight in the opposite fingers, red lines blurring on his skin as his eyes filled with tears. And then afterwards he’d collapse onto his bed, breath coming easier, and he’d wonder at the marvelous effect something so horrible had on him, and if somehow that said something him, about who he was.

By the time he'd hit eighteen he'd had too many scars to count and his wardrobe consisted of long sleeves, jeans, and jackets over everything, no matter how warm it got. Nobody ever knew about it. He'd been good at keeping things like that hidden.

He supposes they'd had to have noticed right after he died. The scars were hard to miss when his flesh had color and the white tissue had something to stand out against.

Which brings him to his current dilemma. He's waking up, and though his heart hasn't started beating again, there’s just enough flush to his skin to make his forearms a cacophony of raised lines, black stitches stark and ugly right down the middle of it all. He hasn’t even bothered to look at the rest of himself yet, but he’s sure the deeper marks on his hips and thighs will be showing too. There’s not at many there though. His main concern is his forearms.

Maybe the mousse? That might work, but he'd have to be careful around the sti-

A soft knock sounds on the bathroom door, followed by Simon's deep voice calling, "Kier?"

Startled, Kieren springs up from where he's been sitting on the edge of the tub, fingers automatically scrabbling to pull his sleeves down. 

"You alright in there? Not throwing up, are you?"

"M'fine!" Kieren calls, and then steels himself with a breath that his body doesn't even need, and opens the bathroom door.

Simon raises his eyebrows at him from across the threshold, large form covered in a hideous, bulky sweater, and hair untidy across his forehead. He's wearing sleep pants underneath the cotton monstrosity, and he looks so adorably domestic Kieren forgets what he was worrying about for a moment.

"Oh, you look like you're getting some color in your cheeks."

Simon pats the side of his face, and Kieren can't help but grin and lean into the affectionate touch a little.

"Yeah. Sorry, just spent a little too long looking in the mirror."

"I would too, if I looked like you."

Like always, Kieren isn’t quite sure what to do with Simon’s praise of him. Had he still been alive he’s sure the little voice in his mind would have something nasty to say, to counteract the way Simon’s words make him feel all butter warm inside. But that thing died when Kieren did, and for whatever reason it hasn’t come back.

He’s praying it won’t return once he fully warms up. There’s too much progress made now, for him to go back to that terrified eighteen year old. He’s accepted himself, half-dead and all, and he’s finally able to really say that he’s okay for once in his life. He can’t revert, can’t lose himself all over again.

It’s that thought that makes him look up at Simon from under his lashes, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

If he’s going to really accept himself, it’s got to be all parts right, even the bad?

“Si, there’s…can I show you something?”

Simon frowns, reacting to Kieren’s sudden somber tone, his full lips pursed in that way they always are. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

The bathroom doesn’t seem like the best place to have this conversation really, so Kieren takes his boyfriend by the hand and leads him down the hall to Simon’s bedroom. He’s still been living with Amy since she has the room for him and all, and though Kieren is still technically living with his parents, he spends a great many nights here, curled up in what has quickly become his and Simon’s bed.

He sits there now, Simon sinking down onto the mattress next to him, gaze steady and intense.

It had taken Kieren some time to get used to that gaze, just how powerful it could be. He knows that more often than not, if Simon is being sincere his eyes are down, gaze fluttering and moving, unwilling to rest on one thing for very long. But this stare, he’s figured out, simply means Simon is trying to figure Kieren out.

“Kier?”

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Kieren picks at the sleeves of his shirt and debates the best way to go about this. Just pull them up? Put his arms out for Simon’s inspection and say nothing?

“Kier, you’re starting to worry me.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs, lurching to his feet again. Kieren paces a couple feet away from the bed, Simon silent and watchful behind him, before he comes to a decision.

“Okay just…don’t say anything for a bit, alright?”

Simon’s voice is tentative and slow, but he still says, “Alright.”

Closing his eyes, Kieren grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head as quickly as he can make himself, which isn’t very fast at all. But he does it, stands there bare-chested in Simon’s bedroom, nothing to hide his forearms. And then he pushes at the band of his boxers too, because he’d never bothered getting dressed after waking this morning, and he figures if he’s going to do this, then he’s going to go all the way.

Er…bad choice of words, but his point stands. Why show his scars if he doesn’t reveal them all?

When he can finally convince himself to turn around, the lines marking the insides of his thighs, the sharp jut of his hips, and of course everything on his arms, are visible. His eyes are still closed, but he can hear Simon’s shaky intake of breath, the sound of squeaking bed springs as his boyfriend leans towards him.

Everything is silent and tense for one long moment, and then Simon asks, low and cautious, “May I speak?”

Kieren lets out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, whole body shaking with it, and slowly opens his eyes. He lets his gaze settle on the floor, before panning upwards until he finds Simon’s familiar, pale face.

“Yeah.”

But even given verbal permission, Simon doesn’t speak just yet. Instead, he reaches out and gently grasps Kieren by the bicep, drawing him back towards the bed. Kieren goes willingly enough, collapsing next to his boyfriend like his strings have been cut. He feels…nervous, for one, but also honest. Clean. A blank slate, despite the evidence carved into his skin that says otherwise.

With warming up, he’s just sensitive enough to be able to feel Simon’s cool fingers tracing a random pattern up his forearm, skittering over his stitches, a whisper of a touch over where his scars are the widest, the deepest.  

“It wasn’t the first time,” Simon eventually says, and Kieren can’t see his face because his head is bowed, but he can hear the way his expression is pinched.

“It was the first time I tried to…to kill myself,” Kieren corrects. “But no, it wasn’t the first time I’d cut.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, well.”

Eventually Simon stands, fingers trailing against Kieren’s skin like he doesn’t want to let go. He closes the bedroom door, which Kieren had completely forgotten about in his anxiety. Distantly, he’s glad Simon remembered, even if Amy isn’t awake yet, but he’s more focused on the faint tremor in his boyfriend’s hand, and the way he’s staring fixedly at the floor.

Before Kieren can ask though, can voice his fear that he’s somehow scared Simon off, or simply made him too uncomfortable, Simon turns on his heel and rips his over large sweater over his head and off. His expression is one of determination, milky eyes making direct contact as he works his under shirt off too. At first, Kieren isn’t following what’s happening exactly staring at Simon’s broad, hairy chest, but when Simon turns around he suddenly understands.

Because he’s not the only one with scars.

And he knows that, he does, he just wasn’t expecting…this. It really can’t even be considered a scar, it’s still an open wound, unable to heal until Simon finishes warming up. But the edges are torn and ragged, the flesh within black as tar, the sickly white of bone shining beneath it in the places where thick metal staples have obviously been torn out. It’s different, seeing this versus seeing the scarred track marks on Simon’s arm. This is deeper, more emotional somehow, and Kieren wants so badly to say or do something, but he just sits staring dumbly until Simon finally turns back around.

“Tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he says, coming to sit next to Kieren again. If it weren’t for the tightness around his mouth, Kieren wouldn’t know exactly how terrified his boyfriend is.

They end up sitting cross legged on the mattress, facing each other. Kieren thinks he should probably be embarrassed being completely nude and all, his cock soft and vulnerable against his thigh, but nothing about this situation feels sexual. It’s them laying themselves bare for each other, nothing more, nothing less. Up until now, they hadn’t really taken any of their clothes off with each other (besides jeans maybe, but boxers and sleep pants had always kept them modest). It feels like a milestone.

“You know how I died,” Kieren starts, unconsciously tracing one set of stitches now that they’re out in the open and he can fidget with them. Almost immediately Simon is reaching across the space for his hand, stilling him, calming him, and Kieren gives him a small, appreciative smile before continuing.

“I killed myself because I’d found out that Rick had died overseas. But that was more the straw that broke the camel’s back than anything else. It’s what everyone believes though, that it was just that one thing that pushed me over the edge, and I let them think that. It’s just easier that way. But there was a lot of stuff even before he died, just shit stuff.

You said…you told me you used to feel like life was meaningless, and that you thought you were just wired to be like that. I think I might have been too. I felt so alone all the time, and everything hurt, everything was terrifying. Once Rick was gone it just didn’t seem worth it anymore, you know? He was my only friend, and even he…well, loving him was difficult when it felt like he was ashamed of me all the time. He wasn’t really, just never stood up for me, didn’t even want his dad knowing when we’d been together. I understood why, but it still hurt. It helped, cutting. Made me feel…better I guess, a release.”

Kieren sucks in a deep breath, clamps his teeth down on it, then lets it out slow and easy. He’s never said any of this out loud before, hardly even let himself think it, but it’s out now, floating in the air between him and Simon. And Simon’s heavy lidded eyes are dark and understanding, the twist of his lips compassionate as he rests cool palms on Kieren’s knees.

They sit together in silence for a while, just breathing quietly into the intimate space betwixt their bared bodies. He’s not sure when it happens, but Kieren’s eyes eventually slip closed, and he revels in the light feeling in his chest, the bright white on the backs of his eyelids. He wants to paint this moment here, the grey sheets of the bed, the early morning light filtering through sheer curtains, and Simon, shirtless, soft, a mixture of light and shadow with his pale skin and inky hair.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Simon’s quiet voice filters to Kieren through what he feels has become a sacred moment, but the words don’t break the tranquility settled close and warm around them. If anything, they add to it, despite their heaviness, the bleakness Kieren knows will follow.

“I helped stop the war, you know.”

Kieren blinks his eyes open, and knows it’s his turn to settle his hands on Simon’s legs, offering silent support.

Simon’s gaze is distant, faraway, when he gives a self-deprecating laugh. “At least, that’s what they told me anyways. Not sure I believe it anymore. At the time though, I thought I was doing some kind of good in the world. See, I was one of the first to respond to the neurotryptaline, and once I was aware of myself again the doctors asked if they could keep experimenting on me, to perfect the drug and maybe find an even better cure they said. I told them yes, but I know now that they would have continued their tests even if I’d said no. They did, in fact, when I’d finally broken.”

Unfortunately, it’s too easy for Kieren to picture. Simon, half-rabid still, strapped down while men in white coats dig around his spine, their tones curious and light as they discuss what they’re finding while the man beneath them softly pleads for them to stop, to leave him alone, please just stop.

“I’m sorry they didn’t listen to you,” Kieren murmurs eventually, one hand coming up to cup Simon’s cheek. His boyfriend gives a tiny little smile, fingers coming up to wrap around Kier’s wrist.

“I’m sorry nobody knew you were in pain.”

The conversation is serious, it’s dark, it’s discussing the unsavory pieces of their lives but Kieren still grins and feels his stomach flutter a little, because he trusted Simon with his deepest secrets, and Simon trusted him in return with his own. It feels good, feels powerful.

“C’mon love,” Simon urges gently, tugging on Kieren’s wrist. “It’s still early, let’s get some more sleep."

Kier goes easily enough, folding himself close to Simon’s bulk as they curl up beneath the thick comforter. It’s intimate and soft and quiet and Kieren drifts off with Simon’s fingers twined between his own, feeling lighter, newer, than he has in years.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/). You should come request stuff from me.


End file.
